


Within Limits

by Laylah



Category: Infinite Undiscovery
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Dom/sub, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight there is something else on his mind, some purpose that makes him slow. He leaves the rope harness half-complete, the ends trailing down to curl at her feet, and rests his hands flat against her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within Limits

There are limits to their indulgences, of course. He is an aristo, in line to inherit titles and responsibilities befitting his family. She is a meage and a Nightwhisper besides -- not a proper consort nor even a suitable concubine. To remain fit to protect him, she cannot afford to become pregnant. To uphold the honor of his family, he cannot afford to sire bastards. Touma assures her that he does not miss the chance to indulge in that one act, and so long as he is satisfied, Komachi has no reason to complain. The chance to serve him is all she needs.

And he provides far more than that. He blushed terribly the first time he asked her to strip, but his hands were steady and sure, passing the ropes over her bared skin, twining around her torso, settling snug between her thighs. She has grown to love this ritual of preparation, holding herself still and available while he binds her. The ropes are crimson silk, lifting and separating her breasts, following each of her body's curves, one heavy knot level with the cleft between her legs.

Tonight there is something else on his mind, some purpose that makes him slow. He leaves the rope harness half-complete, the ends trailing down to curl at her feet, and rests his hands flat against her skin. "You do not mind the dark," he says.

"I thrive in it, my lord," she answers. He knows that already.

Touma covers her eyes with a soft scarf, passing it below the knot of her hair and tying it carefully. She will be sorry not to watch him, but a Nightwhisper learns to trust her other senses when her eyes are no use.

The shift of fabric tells her he is moving. "You look beautiful," he tells her.

"Thank you, my lord," Komachi murmurs. She is ready when he touches her, does not startle, only arches into his hands. His touch is possessive, admiring, cupping her breasts and stroking her belly. There is still something else he has not yet asked of her, or he would be tying the final knots. She waits for him to give her next order.

"There is more I would ask of you," he says. Perhaps it is easier for him to ask when she cannot look him in the eyes.

"I am yours," she says. "Any service I can offer you is both my duty and my pleasure."

One of his hands cups the swell of her buttocks. "I want to fill you," Touma says. "Completely."

Komachi bows her head, makes no attempt to suppress the shiver that runs through her. "Yes, my lord."

He does not ask again, for which she is grateful. She would beg for it, if that pleased him, but it brings her no pleasure for him to doubt the extent of his control.

His fingers trace the cleft of her buttocks, oil her, stretch her slowly. He has taken her like this, some nights, pressing close behind her in the dark. Tonight, when she has relaxed enough around his fingers, he replaces them with a plug, heavy and smooth-polished. Its girth swells as he presses it into her, until the thickness makes her gasp -- and then the broadest part of it slips into her and settles into place, solid, unyielding, an inescapable fullness. Her nipples draw tight, and she aches between her legs.

Touma's hand presses against her mound, the heel of his hand crushed against her curls, his fingertips finding her wet. "Here, as well," he says.

Komachi nods. "Please," she says.

He takes his hand away, instead of pushing fingers into her; she hears him move, away and then back again, and spreads her stance wider to show her willingness.

The object he slides between her legs is cool to the touch, nearly too cold, and her breath hitches. But he presses it upward, into her, a smooth, slightly curved shaft as thick as three of his fingers. As it fills her more deeply, she can feel the pressure of it against the plug already inside her; between the two of them, she feels wanton, full and stretched wide. "My lord," she whispers.

He kisses her collar bone, and draws the ropes down between her legs to complete the bondage. As he pulls the ropes taut at the small of her back, the pressure ensures that the shafts inside her are held there, deep.

"Your hands," Touma murmurs, his breath warm against the back of her neck, and Komachi offers them. She can hear the hunger in his voice, and the beat of her own blood is quick and steady everywhere the ropes hold her. He lashes her wrists together, fixes them to the twisted rope at the small of her back. The position urges her shoulders back, puts her breasts on display. "You still consent to this?" he asks. "You would still offer yourself further?"

It is his will that has done this to her: the shafts that fill her, the ropes that bind her, the blindfold, all placed by his hands and by his desire. "I would, my lord," Komachi answers.

Touma lets go of her arms. "Show me," he says.

Komachi sinks slowly to her knees. The ropes pull at her skin, the knot rubbing between her legs, the shafts inside her shifting against each other. Heat bursts low in her belly, and she moans. "Please, my lord," she says, and licks her lips. "Take my mouth also. I'm yours."

The noise he makes is soft, nearly suppressed, but plain enough for her to hear it. "Komachi," he whispers. There are more sounds of cloth shifting, and then the heat of his shaft against her lips. "Take it."

At first Komachi only opens her mouth to accommodate him, to allow him to use her throat -- but he doesn't move, only waits there, so she has to lean forward to take him in. The movement pulls at her bonds, rocks the shafts already filling her, and she moans around his length.

"Yes," he says. "That's how I want you. Move like that."

Komachi moans her gratitude, flexing her thighs to rock forward and take him down her throat. She feels slick and swollen, filled by him three different ways now, every movement another burst of pleasure. He cradles her head in one hand, carefully guiding her to his pace as she shudders helplessly at his feet.

Her first climax overtakes her almost immediately, flaring outward from her core. She keeps moving through it, through the moment of shivering overstimulation right after, and into the rising tension that will be the second. Touma makes soft sounds of pleasure -- restrained, as all aristos are, but reward enough. She leans forward to take him deeper, to pleasure him with lips and tongue, to offer him her throat. The ropes pull and slide between her thighs, and she shivers through a second climax, filled and surrendering to the sensation.

"Once more," Touma says. "Can you do that for me? Once more, when I do?"

Yes, Komachi wants to say, yes. Without speech, without glances, without gestures, she must make her body answer him, make her willingness be unmistakable. His breath stutters, and she knows he can read her reply; the salt taste of him on her tongue prepares her for him to finish.

"Now," he tells her softly, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Komachi --" and she flexes, muscles rippling around the shafts buried inside her, driving her body to respond: he spills bitter and hot across her tongue, and she is three heartbeats behind him, trembling, undone.

She swallows, and licks him clean as best she can before he steps back. "Do I please you, my lord?" she asks.

"Of course," Touma answers, his voice gentle. He unties her blindfold and slips it free, slides one hand down to cup her cheek. "And you? Are you satisfied?"

Komachi smiles. "Of course," she echoes, and turns her head to kiss his palm. How could she be anything else?


End file.
